


A Freshly Dug Grave

by Nylazor



Series: The Adventures of Cal Amell [26]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Burns, Child Death, Fire, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-11
Updated: 2019-01-11
Packaged: 2019-10-08 05:39:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17380643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nylazor/pseuds/Nylazor
Summary: Cal digs a grave.





	A Freshly Dug Grave

**Author's Note:**

> Based off the prompt 'freshly dug grave'

Zevran watched as the warden… no Cal, as Cal pushed the shovel into the dirt once more.  He was panting considerably and sweating like a stuck pig. Not that you could see it under the heavy rain. It seemed they had stopped for the night, despite it being around noon. 

 

Zevran wasn't going to argue. He was as exhausted as everyone else. And… today wasn't a good day.

 

Zevran liked to think he was pragmatic. He had to be, he was raised from childhood to kill people. But… that was… it was a bit much for even him.

 

The day had started like any other on this damned journey. Breakfast and a forward march. But… he sighed and tried not to look at the  _ thing _ that had ruined all of their day's. 

 

He failed. He glanced at  _ it. _ Yes it was an  _ it _ because he couldn't bear to think of what- no  _ who _ it once was.

 

For once Zevran was happy for the rain, as miserable and cold as it was, it helped keep the smell down. The smell of burned fat and charred skin. He shivered, he really hoped it was the darkspawn that killed…  _ it _ . Yes. Don't get attached, don't think about it, it's just a collection of bone and meat now, nothing more. He hoped there was a Maker to care for  _ it  _ when it moved on. It's life having to be so short.

 

Zevran shifted and felt the new skin on his hand. He rubbed slow circles into it, he should be practicing, going through forms, working new callouses in but he couldn't bare the thought of leaving the ward- Cal, alone. If he felt awful for  _ it _ he could only imagine how Cal felt.

 

His eyes strayed towards  _ it  _ again. He really hope it was the darkspawn that killed it and not… he looked down at his hand and flexed it. The skin was brand new, as if from a baby, whenever Cal healed him it took away all the scars and calluses. If the wound had been not as bad, he would have asked Cal not to heal it, but as it was…

 

He remembered the heat, the burning, touching Cal and pulling his hand back faster than he could even think. He remembered screaming as his whole hand was lit on fire. He gritted his teeth and shied away from the phantom pain, rubbing circles into his palm.

 

“Hey.”

 

Zevran glanced up, Cal was staring at him with despair.

 

“Can you pass him?”

 

Zevran leaned down and picked  _ it  _ up. Don't think about it. Don't get attached.

 

He kneeled in front of the grave and gently passed it. He flinched as he felt skin flake off onto his arms. But he didn't want to brush it off, not in front of Cal, not now. He was sure the rain would take care of it anyhow.

 

He tried not to think of how Cal was cradling it, he had tried to think of it as a sack of potatoes, just something to be carried, but Cal… Cal was holding it close to him, like a- Zevran stopped the thought in the tracks. He'd seen tons of kids die, this wasn't any different, Maker, he'd killed kids before but this…

 

Cal's jaw was so tight it looked like he was trying to bite through it. He was crying, and he wasn't even trying to hide it, which was unlike him. 

 

“Do you think he suffered?” Cal whispered, barely audible over the rain.

 

Zevran looked away. “I don't know. And there's no way to tell so, just put it down.”

 

“Zev…” Zevran flinched at the nickname, the last one who had called him that was… “it was might fault, I was so determined not to let them hurt him… I just lost it. And now he's dead and it's all my fault.”

 

“You don't know that!” He snapped. Don't think about it.

 

“Zevran, I couldn't save him, for Andraste's sake he was a chi-”

 

“Enough!” Zevran yelled. “What's done is done. He was as good as dead when his parents abandoned him!”

 

“But we don't know that! Maybe he got lost or they got seperated! Maybe he still has a family looking for him!” Cal was sobbing now, he pulled  _ it  _ closer.

 

“Cal!” He glanced up. “We can't save everyone in this fucking war. We save who we can and mourn the rest.”

 

“But Zevran…”

 

“Warden are you going to weep over every corpse you have to step over to victory?”

 

Cal was staring at him as if he was a stranger. “No. Just the children. Just the innocents I killed”

 

Zevran slammed his eyes shut to try to shut out the images. But they just kept coming.

 

A child screaming.

 

Darkspawn clumped together.

 

And Cal as angry as he'd ever seen him telling.

 

The fireball so big it knocked trees over.

 

Cal rushing through the fire.

 

Zevran grabbing him.

 

Pain.

 

Burning.

 

Maker he hoped the Darkspawn killed the kid.

 

And that's what  _ it _ was. A little boy. He couldn't have been older than ten. He was so small. He weighed nothing. His corpse back and red. The smell of burned meat. Zevran felt his eyes burn as he opened them. He had to be strong.

 

He tried a different approach. “Cal there's nothing we can do now. Just put him down.”

 

Cal morosely put the tiny body down. He struggled a bit to get out of the hole before Zevran took pity on him and pulled him out. Zevran tried to ignore the feeling of ash between their hands.

 

“Should we call the others?” 

 

“No, I don't think they want to see this.” Zevran gently placed a hand on his shoulder.

 

Cal looked down at the small blackened corpse. “I've only been to mage's funerals, I don't know what to say.”

 

“I'm sure it's not so different.” Zevran consoled.

 

Cal kneeled down. “I'm sorry. I don't know if I killed you. I doubt I'll ever know. But I'll try my best to repent. To do better. I'm… I'm so sorry I couldn't save you. Please, return to the maker.” Cal looked lost.

 

“Lamento mucho esta gran pérdida… Maker le bendiga.” Zevran said, before taking  a handful of dirt and throwing it on the pile.

 

Cal got up shakily and grabbed the shovel.

 

“I've got it.” Zevran took the shovel and began making short work of the pile of dirt.

 

Cal stood with uncertainty. It was easier putting the dirt back then digging it up, it helped he had done physical work all his life, unlike Cal. Still it took some time. When it was done Zevran grabbed Cal around the shoulder and guided him back to camp.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Talk to me at tumblr  
> @nye-writes  
> Twitter  
> @nylazorslew  
> Email me prompts  
> nylazorslew@gmail.com  
> Comment?


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